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PREVIEW
... s was the first to break the silence, sneering.
“Miss Swift, we’re talking about this rose painting, not some rose garden. What are you so nervous about?”
“Your guilt is showing! Wasn’t this rose garden painted by you?”
Tracy Swift’s face was twisted, her eyes filled with fear, her forehead covered in fine sweat, staring fixedly at the rose painting, as if her blood had turned to ice.
“Evans, d-don’t talk nonsense, I, I have nothing to be guilty about…” Tracy’s st ...
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